Promises are hard to keep
by Lucy36
Summary: What if Hook had gone into the light, and stayed dead ? What if he'd never met Zeus, or at least had never been given a "get out of death free" card ? And what about Emma ? How would she cope ?


**Disclaimer** : I own nothing, and certainly am not making any money out of this story. Everything belongs to the writers and producers of OUAT ; I'm just borrowing the characters and playing around with them a bit.

 **Author's note** : I don't know about you, but I was really upset when Hook came back from the dead at then end of "Last Rites" (Season 5, episode 21). I absolutely love him, but it felt like his death had been cheapened somehow. And why him and not Robin ? What's the logic ?

 **Emma's point of view** :

I know it's wrong. I promised him, after all. I can feel the walls building themselves up again, taller than before.

I know I have to move on, like he did. I wonder if he's happy where he is. If he can see me. "I'm sorry, Killian... I really try. I think it's too soon."

I like to come and talk to his grave every day. Gives me time to escape from everything. I know Regina and Zelena are devastated too. Maybe we should form some sort of club : The Devastated Spinsters.

And I'm absurdly jealous of my parents. Of what they have. Of their freaking children. I wish I was pregnant with Killian's child. Which is unfair to Henry. Maybe I should have thrown caution to the wind and slept with Killian. But no... "Not after what happened with Henry's father" has always been my motto. Not that I'm not glad to have Henry back into my life. And maybe, if I was pregnant, it would be even worse. I mean, if you're stressed or depressed during pregnancy, it can affect your baby, maybe for life. Or so I've read in one of my mother's pregnancy books. They're my guilty little secret : I read pregnancy books and weep over what will never be. I am beyond pathetic.

I wish there was some sort of loophole, some way to turn back time and save him. But he wouldn't want that, would he ? He said so himself : "Don't make that mistake again, Swan." Not like I could, anyway. The only ones with that kind of magic are Regina (and she's in an even worse state than I am) or Gold (and he has his hands full, trying to revive Belle before she gives birth. Even _they_ have a baby. I hate them for it.)

My mom's ready to pop any day now. She's having a baby shower at Grandma's, because "it doesn't feel appropriate to have it in the appartment." For yes, I have moved back in with my parents. Henry spends half his time at Regina's, with Zelena and baby Robin. I wish I could take better care of him, but I can't at the moment. At least, he seems to have a positive effect on Regina, or so he claims. I don't know. I don't socialize much anymore.

Even working with my dad is becoming too hard. I can't escape his worried eyes. I could live in the house Killian and I were meant to share, but I'm afraid of what I might do if I'm alone in there.

I can't stop thinking about it. Would we be reunited in the after life ? Or would I go to hell, for taking my own life ? I'd rather not take that chance... For, surely, after I die, probably in battle, I'll get to be with him again, won't I ? Will Neal be there too ? And all those who died fighting the good fight ?

Who will be the Saviour after I die ? Will the world still need one ?

 **Hook's point of view** :

When I first realized I could spy on them, I refused to let myself do it. It didn't feel right, to intrude like that. And I didn't want to put myself through the pain of watching them move on. Of watching _her_ move on. I know I made her bloody promise, but it doesn't mean I want to see it. Maybe when she'll be very old and I won't hurt so much anymore.

I thought I wouldn't feel anything after death. The way I pictured it, it'd be like sleeping peacefully forever. But it's pain and loss and regret and wanting. Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's my punishment for all the bad deeds. And it's so lonely... I thought there'd be others, if I was to be awake. Can't be Heaven. More like Purgatory. I hope it's not Heaven. I don't want Emma to end up in here. I want her to be happy.

And then one day, when the emptiness and dark thoughts got to be too much, I got weak. I peeked. And what I saw nearly did me in. Well, would have done me in, if I wasn't already dead. She looked terrible, like a ghostly version of herself. Going through the motions. Weeping at my grave. I tried to gauge how much time had passed since my death. Her mother hadn't popped yet, but looked ready to do so any day. I told myself it was normal, it was too soon. And tore my eyes away.

The second time I gave in, she still looked awful. There were two babies, now, and that son of hers had shot up something fearsome. I wondered if he'd be my height yet. I couldn't remember how tall I'd been, exactly. Death will do that to you. You forget the details about your physical self, because you no longer have a body. Plus you don't sleep or eat or have any routines, so it's hard to keep track of things.

The third time, I decided to take matters into my own hands. There didn't seem to be rules to this being dead thing, and anyway I was never much for following rules. So I tried sending her good thoughts, good dreams, anything. I started watching nearly all the time, focusing, trying to reach. I couldn't see any difference, until one night I made it into one of her dreams. It didn't last long, but I could touch her, talk to her. "I love you. You have to live." I kept repeating it, over and over, like I'd done for the past few... weeks ? Months ? She cried. I cried. Not pretty tears, but ugly, body-wracking sobs. I held her and kept repeating myself, like a mantra, willing the words to burn themselves into her brain, into her soul... When we were wrenched apart again, I raged and fought, but it was no use. I found myself praying to whoever or whatever would listen : "Please, let this have worked... Please..." And I guess someone or something must have been listening.

 **Emma's point of view** :

And then one day, I wake up, feeling the familiar tear tracks on my face. I slowly open my eyes and there's dust dancing in the sunbeams. I hear baby Neal's delighted laughter on the other side of the door and almost smile. I can smell coffee and pancakes, and find myself really hungry. And this is how it starts, my return to the land of the living.


End file.
